


antithetical

by imperfectkreis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Condoms, Developing Relationship, Football | Soccer, Hair Pulling, Kissing, M/M, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Wall Sex, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 18:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: Yalda and Buck play for rival teams. They’ve been exchanging texts for two months, since the last time their teams met and they accidentally (honestly!) hooked up. The second time is definitely not an accident.





	antithetical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [festlich](https://archiveofourown.org/users/festlich/gifts).



They were barely off the pitch before Yalda darted for his phone, shoved inside his duffel bag at the bottom of his locker. He only had a narrow window to text Buck before the manager would be in to harangue the team about a mediocre draw. Yalda was certain that he was going to be the subject of the manager’s ire in particular. Buck had stuck so tight on him the whole match and Yalda only got a handful of decent crosses in.

Yalda was pretty convinced his performance was nothing short of miraculous, given the conditions. Each time Buck would dash over to mark him, he could smell the sweat and grime and musk of Buck. Something that short circuited his brain, looping back to two months ago, when they played in Buck’s home stadium and spent the night after fucking in Yalda’s hotel room until he couldn’t fucking walk straight in the morning. Then, today, every time Buck fucking grabbed at him as they raced down the flank to the touchline, pulling at each other’s shirts and smashing shoulders, Yalda just wanted to throw Buck down and ride him there in the grass. Buck ended the game with a yellow card for getting too rough with Yalda, so at least Yalda wasn’t the only one suffering.

All Yalda got to text was “wait for me,” before the locker room door slammed open, the manager’s voice ringing off the walls in hash bleats of disapproval.

—

Yalda doesn't bother showering with the team. Some of the guys snicker when he sneaks out the rear door. Some of them fucking know about last time because the hotel room walls were thinner than Yalda thought and he had sort of been a little too drunk to keep his damn mouth shut. Being a screamer wasn’t a problem, but some of them had definitely picked out Buck’s name from the racket. They’d caught him and Buck talking at the bar too.

He sends another text to Buck, telling him exactly which door he should open: the marked off supply closet the staff doesn’t use anymore. It’s been designated for a tear down when the renovations start in the summer. And most everything is cleared out already.

Yalda doesn’t have any pockets to stick his phone, so he just fiddles with it in his hand until he gets to the supply closet. He tries to be quiet about opening the door and sneaking in. Once the door is shut, he finds himself with too much nervous energy. What if Buck can’t find the room? What if Buck’s not interested anymore? Moved on to someone else? They’ve been texting this whole time, but that doesn’t mean Buck would want to fuck him again.

Setting his phone on the empty shelving rack, Yalda bounces on the balls of his feet. His knees are still grass-stained and there’s dirt in his sweat-soaked hair and he smells fucking awful probably. But he didn’t want to wait. 

Maybe Buck is showering first and Yalda wonders if he should race back to the locker room. But that’s when the door finally opens and Buck is on the other side, still in kit and just as messy as Yalda.

Yalda doesn’t even get a word out before Buck presses against him, backing them both up against the wall and planting his mouth over Yalda’s. Reaching around to Buck’s back, Yalda grabs fistfuls of Buck’s jersey, clawing at his shoulders and feeling the way Buck flexes underneath.

Vicious with his teeth, Yalda bites into Buck’s bottom lip, giving him a taste of what a nuisance he was during the match. Buck is already pawing at Yalda’s shorts, pushing them down off of Yalda’s hips to wrap his hand around his cock. 

“You think you’re so good, don’t you,” Buck hums into his ear, “but I owned your ass out there today, didn’t I?”

Yalda whines, high and reedy in his throat. He should come back with something biting. About how it was only dumb luck and had nothing to do with Buck that they didn’t score. But right now his priorities are elsewhere, palming at Buck’s cock through his shorts.

Slipping out of his slides, Yalda jumps up just enough to throw his legs around Buck’s waist, using his arms for leverage. Buck pushes again, planting Yalda’s back against the wall as he dips his head down to bite at Yalda’s throat.

It’s good, it’s so fucking good how Buck grids his cock against Yalda’s bare ass. He only just remembers that he had a condom and a packet of lube shoved into the band of his underwear, which means it’s somewhere on the floor now.

But Buck seems to have the same idea, reaching into his shorts and pulling out two packets. He drops them on the shelf next to his head, keeping his other arm wrapped tight around Yalda to help support him. Even though Buck isn’t much taller than Yalda, he’s stronger and that alone makes Yalda’s head spin.

“Put it in me,” Yalda pleads, tightening his thighs around Buck’s hips, refusing to let him go, “what you so bad.”

Buck smiles at that, kissing Yalda again, a little softer this time, even if he follows it up with a hard thrust of his hips. The slip of Buck’s shorts against Yalda’s bare ass reminds him of how tantalizingly close they are, but how much more he wants the heat of Buck’s cock inside him.

With his one free hand, Buck shoves down his shorts just enough for his cock to pop free. Yalda doesn’t have to look to see how fat and hard it is. Buck has texted him plenty of pictures in the months since they last saw each other. Always with his face out of frame but the hard cut of his abdomen nicely shown off.

Buck reaches for the lube packet, tearing it open with his teeth. “Stay just like that, babe,” he whispers into Yalda’s ear, “hold on tight.”

They have to shift a bit so Buck can wet his fingers properly and get his hand around to shove two into Yalda’s hole. But Yalda is good at balancing his weight between Buck’s hard body and the wall behind them, so they manage. Yalda fucks himself enough on his own that taking two fingers at first isn’t much of a problem. But he still gasps at the intrusion because they’re Buck’s fingers this time, and he’s waited so long for this.

Yalda throws his head back against the wall behind him as Buck works him open, his fingers prodding and spreading and stretching him open. His cock brushes against Buck’s jersey as they grind and Yalda almost barks at Buck to just fuck him already. But he bites his tongue because he doesn’t want this to end either. He and Buck haven’t made any plans or promises, other than texts about how Yalda wants his dick and Buck’s response that he’s gonna take Yalda apart on his cock.

It’s another few moments of graceless shifting when Buck goes to roll the condom on. Yalda bites his nails down hard into Buck’s back as he presses in, the girth of it thicker than his fingers.

They’re both sweating again and the closet must smell awful but Yalda can’t even really focus other than to pant out Buck’s name as he drives into him. The friction against the wall hikes Yalda’s jersey up until his bare back is sliding against the paint. But he doesn’t have the presence of mind to do anything about it.

Buck’s hips just keep going, even though they’ve both already played ninety minutes and they should be exhausted. Yalda just wants more. More of Buck around him and in him. And he knows he doesn’t want Buck to fly out tomorrow. Even though he’s been trying his best to push all his softer feelings down since that first fuck. That this is good sex and an intense rivalry and nothing else between them. Because Buck hasn’t let on that he wants anything more. And Yalda can read the tabloids just like anyone else and knows Buck has a reputation.

“Right there,” Yalda coaxes. Like this, pinned between the wall and Buck, he can’t really get much leverage. But he squeezes hard with his thighs, trying to get Buck to stroke against his prostate again.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Buck growls, pressing his body closer, until there’s no space left between them, just the barrier of their jerseys sliding against each other. “You look so fucking good on my dick, babe.”

Yalda bites along Buck’s neck, his jaw, because if he doesn’t keep his mouth occupied, he’s going to say something he shouldn’t. Something about how even though they’ve only done this twice, even though it’s just fucking, Yalda only wants Buck anymore. That this wretched man has just ruined him for anyone else.

He’s so perilously close to coming when Buck shifts his hips again, plows deep and thrusts so hard the shelving units fucking rattle against the wall. And Yalda only has to get his hand around his cock for a few solid strokes before his coming all over Buck’s jersey, moaning against the side of his neck. At least it’s only Buck’s name.

“Next time,” Buck hisses, clearly close himself, “I’ll make you come with just my dick.”

Yalda nods fiercely into the juncture of Buck’s neck and shoulder. He feels a little thrill that they’ll even be a next time. Maybe, if they both keep playing well, they’ll both get call-ups next international break and they can spend a whole week running between each other’s hotel rooms.

He feels it when Buck tenses, shudders, and breathes heavily into Yalda’s chest. They’re both careful as Buck slips out, putting Yalda’s feet back on the floor. Buck has no idea what to do with the condom now, and Yalda tells him there’s a trash can right outside. The hallway should be empty but he should hurry.

By the time Buck gets back, Yalda is fully dressed again. He’s beyond exhausted, but in a good way. Achy too, from being contorted around Buck in a position that isn’t totally natural. The cum stain on Buck’s blue jersey is totally obvious, but there’s not really anything to be done about that. 

“You better hurry,” Yalda tells him, “before your bus back to the hotel leaves.”

Buck kisses the side of his head, instead of his lips, “Yeah,” he murmurs, “you’re coming over, right?”

Yalda’s heart flutters at the question. He had tried to keep his expectations low. Buck might have wanted to go out with the team, or relax by himself.

“Do you want me to?” He’s trying to sound coy, but he’s not entirely convinced it comes off that way.

Buck doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Yalda promises.

Breaking into a tiny smile, Buck reaches around to rest his hand on the small of Yalda’s back, “come over whenever. We can get room service for dinner, yeah?”

Still a bit in a daze, Yalda answers “Yeah,” before Buck let’s go and slips out the door.

—

Yalda waits until five before heading to Buck’s hotel. Buck texted his room number so Yalda doesn’t have to ask at the desk. They have to be careful. The tabloids didn’t catch them last time, but that doesn’t mean they should press their luck. Yalda tells himself he’ll be quiet this time too.

He keeps his hood up as he walks to the elevator, trying to shield his face. He’s done his makeup, nothing over the top, just liner, mascara, like he wore to the bar that time he blew Buck in the alley. Buck said it looked good on him. And Yalda likes it, even if his agent politely suggests he should tone it down a little. At least until he’s more established. A good run with a good team will make all the difference for Yalda being accepted just as he is.

The elevator dings at the ground floor and Yalda steps in. He doesn’t really exhale until the doors close and he’s still alone. Looking down, he tries to keep his face out of the way of the camera he knows is mounted in the corner. 

Stopping at the twenty-second floor, Yalda walks with purpose, following the signs to Buck’s room. He can hear Buck’s teammates already, shouting from room to room as they get ready to go out to dinner. Yalda tries to sink a little deeper into his hoodie. He should have waited until they left. Had Buck text him when the coast was clear.

But he’s here now, so he knocks on Buck’s door. Mercifully, Buck answers right away, grabbing Yalda’s arm and dragging him inside. Slipping his hands into the hood of Yalda’s sweatshirt, he cradles Yalda’s face as they kiss, slow and heavy, a promise of things to come. 

“Hungry?” Buck asks, pulling half a step away.

“Your teammates are still in the hall,” Yalda points out. They’ll ask questions if food for two shows up.”

Buck hums, “they’ll be gone, fifteen minutes, tops.”

“Okay, we can order then.”

They end up sprawled on the bed with the television on old sitcom reruns. Even if they are waiting for Buck’s teammates to leave, Yalda didn’t expect Buck to want to just hang out. But they’ve got all evening. Yalda plans on leaving before the trains stop at two. The team gave him a car when he signed over the summer as part of the sponsorship they have, but Yalda doesn’t know how to drive. The car just sits in the spot at his condo complex.

Once the noise outside peters out, Buck passes Yalda the room service menu. Yalda has got this diet he’s supposed to follow, but it basically amounts to cramming in as many calories as possible at all times to try and bulk up a bit more. The trainers said they’ll work from there.

They watch more television until the food comes. At the knock at the door, Buck shoots Yalda a look. Yalda slips into the bathroom before Buck opens the door, and waits for the click of the deadbolt before coming back out.

“Sorry about that,” Buck apologizes, shoving a fry into his mouth.

Yalda shrugs. This is his home city and he might get recognized. It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s not like they’re together. This is just a hookup.

They demolish the room service and are mostly quiet while eating, the sounds from the television keeping the room from growing quiet. Buck flips over to the sports channel and Yalda cringes when it’s literally a highlight of Buck sliding into him, the tackle that earned Buck that yellow card.

“I still think that’s bullshit,” Buck says, his mouth still full of chicken tender, “I got the ball.”

“You got the ball, my calf, and went in studs up. It’s a yellow,” Yalda counters.

Buck puts his plate back on the cart and reaches across the bed to grab at Yalda’s leg. Yalda squeaks as he’s dragged sideways so that Buck can try and roll up his pant leg. But Yalda’s jeans are too tight and he can barely get them past his ankles.

“Come on,” Buck says, fiddling with Yalda’s belt now, “show me.”

Yalda already knows he’s got cleat marks on the back of his leg, so he shimmies out of his jeans to show Buck. The bruises are fresh and purple, obviously from today. And right where the camera caught Buck going in.

Buck kisses over the bruise, but doesn’t say he’s sorry. Yalda figures out they’re done eating, and that’s fine by him. 

Climbing over top of Yalda, Buck brackets his legs on either side of Yalda’s legs. They kiss and kiss while Yalda tangles his fingers in Buck’s hair, pulling sharply when Buck starts to pull away. 

“I like this,” Yalda admits. Maybe it’s too much, “I like this a lot.”

Buck doesn’t say anything, but he kisses Yalda’s neck again before pulling off to go get condoms and lube from his suitcase. Yalda strips out of the rest of his clothing while Buck unzips his luggage.

Yalda still feels pretty open from this afternoon, but he definitely needs the lube. Now at least he can plant his feet on the mattress and roll his hips into Buck’s fingers, giving as good as he gets as he spreads his thighs wide.

“I’m good,” Yalda assures Buck, his breath ragged already and they’ve barely started, “I’m ready.”

Buck reaches for the bedside table for the condom. And while he’s putting it on, Yalda flips onto his stomach, coming up on his hands and knees, giving Buck a pretty good idea of what he wants. Behind him, Yalda can hear Buck breathe, “Yeah, yeah,” before laying one of his hands on Yalda’s spine.

Pushing in, Buck drapes his body over Yalda’s, so they’re chest to back by the time Buck is sheathed all the way inside. His thighs pressed firmly to the back of Yalda’s legs, it feels like Buck is everywhere at once.

The pace Buck sets is quick, Yalda fisting his hands in the bedsheets as he hurries to thrust back onto Buck’s dick. Like this, Buck feels huge, wrapping one arm around Yalda’s waist to keep him from moving too much.

“So good, Buck, oh,” Yalda tries to stay quiet, even if it’s hard not to tell Buck how much he likes it. How full and warm and wanted he feels. He reaches back to grab a fistful of Buck’s hair, pulling on it until Buck hisses.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Buck asks with a particularly sharp thrust. “You want it hard, babe?”

Yalda isn’t sure. He’s not sure what that means with Buck. If he should trust him or not. He just knows that he doesn’t want Buck to stop. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop,” Yalda tries, hopeful that Buck has enough sense.

“Okay,” Buck says. “Just tell me and I’ll stop.”

Yalda nods and Buck grabs him by the back of the neck, pushing his head down onto the mattress so the line of his back curves and his ass sticks out further. Buck keeps his hand there, fingers gently curled around Yalda’s neck, just enough pressure to warn that he could clamp down.

Groaning, Yalda tries to spread his knees further apart, give Buck more space to get between them. Buck doesn’t go any faster, but he’s more deliberate now, striking into Yalda’s hole and pushing them both closer and closer to the headboard on each thrust.

Buck leans over, his mouth next to Yalda’s ear, “You can come like this, can’t you? Just on my cock?”

Yalda whines. He’s not entirely sure. He knows he can get close, like, really, really close. But he’s always given in, rushed to wrap his hand around his cock and make sure he gets there before the want is too much. 

When he doesn’t answer Buck, Buck speaks again, his voice softer, kinder this time, “it’s okay if you need to. I want you to like it.”

With the arm wrapped around Yalda’s waist, Buck hoists him up so that Yalda is sitting on his dick, legs spread over top of Buck’s bent knees. Using the muscles in his thighs, Yalda pistons himself on Buck’s cock, bouncing on his dick.

“You’re just perfect,” Buck says. With his free hand, he reaches around to thumb at Yalda’s nipple. And Yalda is right there at the edge, throwing himself down on Buck’s cock, trying to make himself come. He sobs in frustration as it builds, still not cresting fast enough, even as Buck bites into the flesh of his shoulder, below where his collar will cover. He’s so hard that he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t come, until Buck’s hand wraps around his cock to finish him off.

He knows he’s too loud, but Yalda can’t help it. Buck feels so, so good inside him. Even with the condom, he knows Buck is coming from how he’s slowed down, panting into Yalda’s ear, holding onto him fiercely. Blood rings in Yalda’s ears as his heartbeat keep racing. He can’t settle down and he’s worried that something is wrong. It’s normally not like this, still so intense and disorienting after he’s come.

Buck lays them both down, side by side, before scooting out of bed to toss the condom. Yalda hears the water running in the bathroom sink, then shutting off, before Buck opens the mini fridge door.

“Here,” Buck coaxes, holding out an unopened bottle of water for Yalda to take. “The ice all melted.”

Yalda manages to sit up, take a drink of water. That helps, a bit. It helps too when Buck gets back into bed, barely running his fingers over Yalda’s shoulder. 

“I should have stopped,” Buck muses.

Yalda shakes his head, “No it was good,” he laughs, “really good.”

Buck gives him that small smile Yalda keeps aching for and throws his arm around Yalda’s shoulders, pulling him close until Yalda rests his head against him. “I try,” Buck jokes.

Yalda hums and lets his eyes drift closed. They’ve still got a long time before Yalda has to leave. He thought that they would have like, marathon sex until Buck’s teammates got back. But honestly, Yalda isn’t sure he’s up for it. He feels drowsy and sore, but it’s nice to just sit on the bed with Buck, the television still on. As if on cue, Buck’s foul plays again in the highlights.

“You think you’re going to get called up for the national team?” Yalda asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. They’ve had twelve games so far this season. Yalda has started eight, subbed on in another two. He’s on five assists and a goal. The team is at the top of the table, even with today’s draw. His chances are pretty good. Not to start, but at least get the call.

Buck admits, “Dunno,” carding his fingers through Yalda’s hair, “older guys in front of me, you know. More experienced backs.”

“They’d be foolish not to call you up,” Yalda argues, “you gave me more trouble than anyone else this season.”

“I noticed,” cocky bastard.

Yalda ends up dozing off. Buck wakes him up with his mouth around Yalda’s cock, but is smart enough to leave Yalda’s ass alone for now. Yalda isn’t entirely sure he can come a third time today, even if the breaks between were definitely long enough for him to get hard again. But watching Buck’s pale eyes look up at him from between his legs makes Yalda’s stomach flip and before too long he’s grabbing onto Buck’s hair again and moaning his name as the pleasure peters out.

Glancing at the television, it’s still on, Yalda sees that it’s almost midnight. “The last train is at two,” he tells Buck.

“Stay, you should stay,” Buck says, pulling Yalda close. “You’ll be able to get out in the morning, the guys always sleep until the last minute.”

Yalda tucks his head against Buck’s shoulder, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t push. But in the quiet darkness of the hotel room, he feels strangely vulnerable, but safe too. Like this isn’t real at all. “Buck, what are we doing?”

“Sleeping,” Buck says, but after a moment of silence, he goes on, knowing that’s not what Yalda really meant, “I slept with someone uh...maybe a week after I saw you. But then you were texting me all the time and,” Buck chews at his lip. “Then again...three weeks ago. And it was fine, I guess. But it wasn’t you. I want it to be you.”

Yalda forgets how to breathe, “I want it to be you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yalda is my OC and Buck belongs to Festlich.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read! Comments and kudos are always very much appreciated.
> 
> [tumblr](http://imperfectkreis.tumblr.com)


End file.
